Chronicles of the Red Devil
by KitsuneSwordsman95
Summary: A.U. Naruto Uzumaki has won the fifth great shinobi war, by becoming the new Kyuubi no Kitsune. Now, eons later, Naruto must help his fellow tailed beasts, including Garra, Yugito, and Kirabi fight off a new threat that threatens to destroy them all.


**Me: Howdy hoe! It's me Kitsune again! This is my first naruto story and my second story overall so please don't try and burn me alive with all your flaming reviewes. Believe it or not Naruto was the thing that got me started into fanfiction so this is kinda a big deal for me. Alright I'll get the disclaimer out of the way and leave so you guys can enjoy your story. Naruto do the disclaimer now!**

**Naruto: Alright KitsuneSwordsman95 does NOT own Naruto or any other thing here mentioned but the plot. Believe it! *I punch him in the back of the head***

**Me: God that gets annoying.**

* * *

As the sun rose lazily over the rolling plains of rural South Carolina its bright rays of lights intruded upon the sleep of a lone figure; sleeping against a tree next to the black remains of the campfire from the night before. The figure leaning against the tree slowly opened his eyes, revealing glacier blue orbs that dilated violently in response to the invading brightness. Closing his eyes again the man tried vainly to go back to sleep but alas the cruel yellow orb in the sky said nay to this.

"Damn sun," the man said, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Hauling himself to his feet, the man ran a hand through his long blond hair. "Why the hell does the sun have to come up so early anyway?" He asked himself.

Sighing the man cleaned off his black duster and, after having a small breakfast of cold jerky and somewhat clean water, started to pack up his gear, started to pack up his gear. Today he was heading into town to get some supplies and see if there was any word on his quarry.

He put on his hat, holstered his weapons, and after one last check to see if he forgot anything started down the trail to on of the biggest cities in South Carolina, Charlestown.

* * *

When Lawrence Clark woke up this morning he knew that something bad was going to happen today. Shaking off the foreboding feeling in his gut, Lawrence ate his breakfast, kissed his beloved daughter Samui goodbye, and headed off to his job working at the local pub/meeting house, the Deer's Head. The feeling stayed with him throughout the day making him feel hesitant and nervous, something that his customers noticed as well.

It was a little past midday when things went downhill fast.

Lawrence was cleaning a pair of glasses behind the counter when he heard the door opening. Looking up from his work Lawrence saw a tall, heavy set man, with an ugly black scar across his forehead carrying an old flintlock pistol in his big meaty hand. Dark beady little eyes swept across the room, darting back and forth in agitation until he saw Lawrence behind the counter.

Recognizing the man, Lawrence felt his mouth run dry. "H-h-hey Big Tony," he greeted, cursing himself for stuttering.

"Ello Lawrence, Da Boss needz ta have a little chat widt ya," Big Tony smiled wickedly, making his black scar dance across his forehead. Lawrence nodded hesitantly, knowing what this was going to be about.

Earlier in the year Lawrence's darling daughter Samui had fallen deathly ill from the cold of the winter. Lacking the funds necessary to pay for her treatment, the desperate father went to the one man in town that he knew could help him, Javier 'Da Boss' Seville.

Da Boss was the local crime lord, owning a part of almost every major paying company in the southeastern United States. He had his thumb in everything from completely legal tobacco plantations in South Carolina, to illegal smuggling operations in south Florida. Anything and everything profitable that he could get a piece of, had his name on it somewhere.

It was also a well known fact that if you owed the crime boss money, 'Da Boss' will send his enforcers after you. Most of them barely knew which end of the gun to point at their victims but a few were seasoned, hardened killers that were good at what they did. Tony was one such killer.

The last couple of times that Seville's men came to shake him down, Lawrence told them that he need more time, but that was over three months ago. Now Javier was sending his number two man after him, and Lawrence knew that he wasn't getting off scot-free this time.

"Listen Tony I know that Javier wants his money back but business hasn't been good and-" Big Tony held up a hand, silencing the balding barman. "Da Boss don't want yo money Larry," he said. Lawrence felt himself sad in relief, "But he does want some compensation for all da money he gave ya," the thug continued, smiling a dark, evil smile that sent shivers down the barman's spine.

"What kind of compensation?" he asked, that bad feeling he had in his gut all day intensifying by the second.

Grinning wickedly Tony gave a sharp whistle, calling in the rest of his crew of almost a dozen men, all armed to the teeth with long knives clubs and pistols. However what almost mnade Lawrence's heart stop was the limp form of his daughter being held over one of the thugs shoulder.

"Samui!" the barkeeper cried out, terrified that his beloved daughter was dead. He jumped over the bar and made to run at the thug holding her when half a dozen firearms were trained on him, freezing him in his tracks.

"Relax Larry mi boy, your lovely little lass is fine. Just takin' a little nap. Johnny boy set 'er down," he said, talking to the black haired thug carrying the unconscious girl.

"Aww do I have ta boss? Its not everyday dat I get ta hold a beauty like dis," the thug whined, letting his hand wander around the girl's shapely backside and grinning perversely, before continuing to speak. "With a body like dis she can keep Da Boss happy for a long time."

"You set her down right now you sick son of a bitch!" Lawrence screamed at him.

The laughing thug walked forward and set the girl down on the floor in front of her father.

It was at that moment that Samui started to wake up. "Ugh where am I?" she asked wearily, her rough alto voice sending pleasurable shivers down the collects spines of the thugs. She sat up, stretching her back to try and get rid of some of its constant pain. Lawrence crouched down next to his daughter. "Samui are you alright?" he asked, checking her for anything wrong.

Shaking her head clear of cobwebs, the young woman answered back. "I'm cool dad, just a little woozy. I think I might have hit my head on something. When did I get to the pub?"

"You were brought here honey."

Rising to her full height of five and a half feet, Samui was a vision of beauty. Her pale blond hair cascaded down the back of her neck onto her upper back in perfectly straight lines. Her eyes were a light green color, making them seem to pop out against her pale skin. Her face was without a single blemish or scar and her eyebrows were well shaped. Another of her defining features was her excessively large bust size, which was the source of the young girls many back pains. She wore a simple dark grey dress that went down to her shins, hugging her curves slightly, and around her neck was a black necklace that was given to her by her late mother.

Finally taking in her surroundings Samui noticed the other men present in the pub. "Umm excuse me but what exactly are you men doing here?"

Ignoring her Tony turned to her father. "Ya see Larry, if ya can't pay back Da Boss for all the money you barrowed with money, then ya gonna pay him back widt a nuther thing in yer possession." He said, indicating towards the only female in the room.

Lawrence paled as the blood ran out of his face. 'No,' he though to himself, 'Anything but that.'

Seeing the looking on his face, Tony gave the horrified father a sick grin. "I see ya got what I'm sayin here Larry mi boy. So what's it gonna be, huh? The money, or the girl?"

The barman took a deep breath, steeling his resolve, and spoke as clearly as he could as he choked back sobs, "You'll have to pry her out of my cold dead hands."

Sighing in faux sadness, Tony raised a clenched fist into the air. "So be it," he spoke, bringing it down.

As one the remaining thugs spread out in a semicircle, each of them smiling dangerously or brandishing their weapons, trapping the father and daughter against the bar. "Last chance Larry mi boy," silence was his answer as the man before them was praying for his daughters and his deliverance from the horrid nightmare they were both trapped in. Samui on the other hand was sobbing openly, burying her face in her father's chest.

Samui knew what was going to happen to her. She had faith in her father but she wasn't stupid. She knew how it was going to end and the mere thought of being a sex slave for that horrible man made her sick to her stomach. The worst part about it, however, was that there was nothing she could do to stop it. All she could do was cry into her father's chest, waiting to the thugs to kill him and take her, and pray for a miracle.

Tony was about to walk forward when he felt a cold steel barrel press against the back of his head, accompanied by the ominous clicking noise of a firing hammer being brought back to bear. Then, feeling of a terrible weight fell upon his shoulders and a blistering cold feeling swept over him, making him feel like there was no hope in the world for him. In his minds eye, Tony saw himself killed over and over again, each time more gruesome and painful than the last.

Turning his head slightly, Tony found himself staring down the rather large barrel of a revolving pistol held nearly half an inch away from the back of his head. His eyes slid down the length of the barrel to the man holding it.

He stood over six feet tall, towering over everyone in the room by at least five inches, and wore a black western hat that put a shadow over his face, obscuring most of his features. He wore a long sleeved, burnt red duster and across his chest were a pair of bandoliers crisscrossed on the top of a plain black button down shirt. A green stone, almost like an emerald, hung against his solid chest. However the thing that stuck out the most in Tony's mind was the bright red feather peaking from the rim of the hat.

His mouth suddenly dry, Tony felt all possible hope he had vanish. "The Red Devil," he breathed out shakily, terrified of the well known and dangerous bounty hunter.

The hat tilted up slightly, revealing the lower part of the man's face. It was hard and angular, like a nobles but without an ounce of fat on it and on each of his cheeks were three thin scars that looked almost like whiskers. His lips were pulled back in a sly, mischievous grin that made him look like a fox that had just caught his prey. The elongated K-9s' only added to that look.

Tony felt his heart almost stop when he saw that grin. 'No, no, no, no, no, NO! Dammit! It just had to be him,' he mentally whined pathetically, already writing his will in his mind.

Not much was known about the Red Devil. Some say he his a true demon from hell, sent to earth to gather the dammed souls that Satan has laid claim to. Others say he is an angel of death, doing the Lords bidding by destroying evildoers and bringing to Him for judgment. And still some say he's just some kid who got lucky a few times. But one thing Tony knew for certain was that if he didn't figure out a way out of this that his name will be added onto the bounty hunter's resume.

"I'm in a bit of a rush today so I'll give you a choice," the red feather wearing man spoke softly in a deep baritone voice, his smile disappearing in a flash. "Either you and idiots one though ten here," indicating towards said thugs, each of whom either looked shocked, confused, of fucking terrified, "Leave the premises of this fine establishment here immediately and allow me to carry on with my day, which would make me very happy or…" In a blindingly fast movement a second revolver was drawn and leveled in the direction of a particularly stupid thug who thought that he could jump the bounty hunter while he was talking, "I can put a bullet in each and every one of your tiny brains before dragging your cold lifeless corpses out into the street to be picked up by the local authorities, which would also be fine with me. Your choice. However I would choose quickly, like in the next ten seconds… nine… eight… seven… six…"

The thugs were gone before he hit five, all except for one.

The Red Devil stared at the only remaining thug in the building. "You have a death wish don't ya?" he asked, deadpanning as he holstered his revolvers.

Johnny boy knew he was going to die but he knew that if his master had found out that he had crossed paths with the Red Devil and had done nothing, he would face a fate worse that death. So, knowing he was about to die, Johnny decided to go out the way he lived, telling his common sense to fuck itself.

"So what? Ya think dat just because you're da Red Devil dat yer better than me? Well I got news fa ya demon scum, yer not da only one widt dat kind of power here!" he screamed manically at the bounty hunter, eyes clouded by insanity. Then black flame like markings began to spread across the man's body, starting from the right side of his neck and the grin on his face seemed to get bigger and bigger.

"Well, well, well," the mysterious bounty hunter began in a light, somewhat mocking tone. "It seems that Sasuke-chan is giving out marks again. Always knew he'd end up like his second sensei. Although, the question still remains. Are you capable of killing me?" he asked, gesturing for the madman to come at him with two fingers, seemingly unaffected by the dark aura that was leaking out of Johnny and playing havoc with Lawrence and Samui. They both watched in one part horror and one part awe as the crazed thug let out a roar and charged at the unmoving bounty hunter, club raised high above his head with the full intention to splatter his enemies brains all over the wooden floor. It was finished in all of six seconds.

Six…

Johnny had covered half of the ground between himself and his target, almost fifteen feet.

Five…

The thug was almost within swinging distance.

Four…

He began his swing, his club coming within inches of the Red Devils face, who still stood completely still, not moving a muscle.

Three…

His club sailed through the air where the Red Devils head had been a second before.

Two…

Johnny felt a presence appear behind him. Taking a look out of the corner of his eye, Johnny felt his blood turn to ice. Standing behind him, looking no worse for wear, was the bounty hunter himself. He actually had a bored look on his face, or what part of his face that Johnny could see.

One…

The Red Devil drew one of his revolvers, placing the barrel against Johnny's upper back and pulled the trigger. The gun sounded off with a loud bang and the thug's chest exploded outwards, spraying blood and gore into the air. The concussive force of the blast sent the, now dead, body of Johnny flying through the doorway so fast that only a few drops of the blood and gore that had emerged from his chest wound made it onto the floor. The bloody corpse went sailing out the door, startling most of the people passing by.

Sighing the bounty hunter turned to see the only two remaining occupants in the room starring at him with obvious shock, awe and a little bit of fear.

Frowning at the last one the hunter took a step forward and felt his frown deepen when Lawrence took a step infront of his daughter. The poor barman looked as pale as snow and was trembling like a leaf, but he was ready to protect his daughter with his life, something that the Red Devil admired deeply.

"Relax. I'm not here for any trouble my good friend," he spoke reassuringly. The barkeeper sighed, releasing the breath he didn't even know he was holding. However the suspicion still didn't leave his eyes.

"Then what are you here for, Red Devil?" he asked as he stepped behind the bar, taking Samui with him incase there was another threat. He also poured a glass of whiskey for himself and the bounty hunter sitting in front of him.

Said bounty hunter took off his hat and set it down on the table, revealing long spiky golden locks, some of which hung loosely over his forehead, and warm, but piercing ocean blue eyes.

"Please, just call me Naruto. And you ask me what I want? Why that is quite simple my friend. Information," he spoke grandly.

"Information on what?" Lawrence's eyes narrowed.

Downing his glass of whiskey in one go, Naruto looked at him, grinned a sly fox-like grin, and spoke, "Information on the whereabouts of one Yugito Nii."

* * *

**Wow. I think I did pretty good on this one. Tell me what you think and please try and guess what the connection between Yugito and Naruto is. Go on... I dare you. Review please or i'll sick Kyuubi on ya. Or worse, Lee and Guy in speedos! *que evil laughter***

**p.s. Review!**


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